Angry Romantic Wall Kiss Novels & Stories

For a moment, time seemed to stop. Then Jaxon leaned in. Their lips crashed together. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was raw, angry, and hungry. All five years of hate poured into one fierce kiss. Zane grabbed Jaxon's jersey and pulled him closer. Jaxon's fingers slid into Zane's damp hair and gripped tight. Their teeth clashed, tongues fought. A deep growl rumbled from Zane's throat. Then they broke apart just as quickly as they started. Both men stared at each other, breathing hard, their eyes wide with shock.

“This is what love looks like when it’s been through hell and still chooses you.” The words cut through me like a blade. And then— Before I can blink, before I can think, we’re kissing. It’s angry. Desperate. Raw. His hands slam against my back, gripping me like he’s drowning and I’m the only air left in the world. Mine tangle in his shirt, then his hair, yanking him closer. Our mouths crash. There’s no rhythm, no restraint. Just fire. Wild and unfiltered. My back hits the wall. His body presses into mine. I gasp into his mouth. He groans into mine.

“You want me to kiss you like I mean it?” “Fuck yes.” I grab his face with both hands, pull him down, and kiss him back. Not soft. Not sweet. I kiss him angry, hungry, tongue shoving into his mouth, teeth clashing, tasting the blood I drew and not caring. He groans low, hand tightening in my hair, other one squeezing my ass hard enough to bruise. When I finally pull back, we’re both breathing like we ran a mile. My lips are swollen, his bleeding a little, and the room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

My back hit the wall so there wasn't anywhere to escape. "You want to leave the room right?" He asked with desire in his eyes. I nodded unable to speak because of how close we were. If I move his lips would land on mine so I stood stiffly. "Kiss me" he demanded making my eyes wide. "What! Are you crazy?" I shouted shifting a little which made my lips brush his own. I froze "I said kiss me god dammit!" He shouted and slammed his lips against mine causing my eyes to widen in shock. "What!" I said and he plunged his tongue down my throat kissing me with so much anger and lust.

He pushed me to the wall roughly, looking at me angrily. O...ohhh..... But it only lasted seconds before his eyes wandered from my eyes to my lips. Then he grabbed my neck and kissed me hard. Houston. We have a touchdown!

I drew my hand back, prepared to slap him in the face. "Oh no, you won't." He caught my hand in midair. Instinctively I drew back the other hand and tried to slap him again but just like the first time, I didn't succeed. He caught my other hand too, refusing to let go. And then in the blink of an eye, my hands were on his face and he, he drew me down to him and our lips collided again. This time it was different, it was an angry kiss, a kiss that was happening out of pent-up anger and frustration. It was raw, hot, passionate, scorching hot. It was like a volcano colliding with an iceberg. Like an alpha and his Luna, bent on devouring each other. I nearly knocked him over backward and rammed

“No you’re not.” “You can’t stop me.” “Watch me.” He kisses me hard, backing me against the wall. It’s not gentle. It’s angry and possessive and desperate. I should push him away. Should tell him this doesn’t change anything. Instead I kiss him back just as hard. His hands are rough on my waist, sliding under my shirt. Mine are in his hair, pulling him closer. We’re both still angry but it’s bleeding into something else now. “You’re not going,” he says against my mouth.

In that quiet room, with the sound of the gala fading into the background, the tension between them snapped like a taut wire. She reached up, grabbing the lapels of his tuxedo, and pulled him down to her. His lips crashed against hers, hard and desperate, and she kissed him back with equal fervor. It wasn’t a soft, tender kiss of love—it was a kiss of possession, of all the anger, frustration, longing, and fear that had built up between them for months. It was a way to claim each other, to say you’re mine even when they were fighting, to hold onto something real in a world that felt chaotic and unsteady. Liam’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, his body pressing against hers.

All of it comes to a head in this single, violent collision. Our lips crash together as we find a new way to dismantle one another. Ron keeps me pinned against the mahogany-paneled wall, pouring every ounce of the Hwan-Castellano aggression into the kiss. He is nipping at my lip, exerting a territorial dominance that makes my blood sing with a dangerous, forbidden rhythm. He forces his way between my lips, his tongue plundering with a possessive heat that ignores every rule of the Agency.